The rival queens, or, The death of Alexander the Great acted at the Theater-Royal by their majesties servants
Lee, Nathaniel, 1653?-1692., Dryden, John, 1631-1700., La Calprenède, Gaultier de Coste, seigneur de, d. 1663. Cassandre. English.
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ACT III.
Enter Eumenes, Philip, Thessalus, Perdiccas, Lysimachus, Guards.
Eum.
FArewell, brave Spirit, when you come above,
Commend us to Philotas, and the rest
Of our great Friends.
Thes.
Perdiccas, you are grown
In trust, be thankfull for your noble Office.
Perd.
As noble as you sentence me, I'd give
This Arm that Thessalus were so imploy'd.
Lys.
Cease these untimely jarrs, farewell to all,
Fight for the King as I have done, and then
You may be worthy of a death like mine.—Lead on.
Enter Parisatis.
Par.
Ah my Lysimachus, where are you going?
Whither? to be devour'd? O barbarous Prince!
Cou'd you expose your life to the King's rage,
And yet remember mine was ty'd to yours?
Lys.
The Gods preserve you ever from the ills
That threaten me; live, Madam, to enjoy
A nobler fortune, and forget this wretch:
I ne're had worth, nor is it possible
That all the bloud which I shall lose this day,
Shou'd merit this rich sorrow from your eyes.
Par.
The King, I know, is bent to thy destruction;
Now by command they forc'd me from his knees:
But take this satisfaction in thy death,
No Power, Command, my Mothers, Sisters tears,
Shall cause me to survive thy cruel loss.
Lys.
Live, Princess, live; howe're the King disdains me,
Perhaps unarm'd, and fighting for your sake,
I may perform what shall amaze the World,
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And force him yet to give you to my arms.
Away Perdicas;—dear Eumenes, take
The Princess to your charge.
Exeunt Perd. Lys. Guards.
Eum.
O cruelty!
Par.
Lead me, Eumenes, lead me from the light,
Where I may wait till I his ruine hear,
Then free my Soul to meet him in the Air.
Exeunt.
Phil.
See where the jealous proud Roxana comes,
A haughty vengeance gathers up her brow.
Thes.
Peace, they have rais'd her to their ends; observe.
Enter Roxana, Cassander, Polipercon.
Rox.
O you have ruin'd me, I shall be mad;
Said you so passionate, is't possible?
So kind to her, and so unkind to me?
Cas.
More then your utmost fancy can invent:
He swouned thrice at hearing of her Vow,
And when our care as oft had brought back life,
He drew his Sword, and offer'd at his breast.
Pol.
Then rail'd on you with such unheard of curses.
Rox.
Away, be gone, and give a whirlwind room,
Or I will blow you up like dust; avaunt:
Madness but meanly represents my toyl.
Roxana, and Statira, they are names
That must for ever jarr; eternal discord,
Fury, revenge, disdain, and indignation
Tear my swoln breast, make way for fire and tempest.
My brain is burst, debate and reason quench'd,
The storm is up, and my hot bleeding heart
Splits with the rack, while passions like the winds
Rise up to Heav'n and put out all the Stars.
What saving hand, O what Almighty arm
Can raise me sinking?
Cas.
Let your own arm save you,
'Tis in your power, your beauty is Almighty:
Let all the Stars go out, your Eyes can light 'em:
Wake then, bright Planet that shou'd rule the world,
Wake like the Moon, from your too long Eclipse,
And we with all the Instruments of War,
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Trumpets and Drums, will help your Glorious Labour.
Pol.
Put us to act, and with a violence,
That fits the Spirit of a most wrong'd woman:
Let not Medea's dreadfull vengeance stand
A pattern more, but draw your own so fierce,
It may for ever be Original.
Cas.
Touch not, but dash, with stroaks so bravely bold,
Till you have form'd a face of so much horrour,
That gaping Furies may run frighted back;
That Envy may devour her self for madness,
And sad Medusa's head be turn'd to Stone.
Rox.
Yes, we will have revenge, my Instruments:
For there is nothing you have said of me,
But comes far short, wanting of what I am.
When in my nonage I at Zogdia liv'd,
Amongst my She-companions I wou'd reign;
Drew 'em from idleness, and little arts
Of coining looks, and laying snares for Lovers;
Broke all their Glasses, and their Tires tore:
Taught 'em, like Amazons, to ride and chace
Wild Beasts in Desarts, and to Master men.
Cas.
Her looks, her words, her ev'ry motion fires me.
Rox.
But when I heard of Alexander's Conquests,
How with a handfull he had Millions slain,
Spoil'd all the East, their Queens his Captives made,
Yet with what Chastity, and God like temper
He saw their Beauties, and with pity bow'd;
Methought I hung upon my Father's lips,
And wish'd him tell the wondrous tale again:
Left all my sports, the Woman now return'd,
And sighs uncall'd wou'd from my bosom fly;
And all the night, as my Adraste told me,
In slumbers groan'd and murmur'd, Alexander.
Cas.
Curse on the name! but I will soon remove
That bar of my Ambition and my Love.
Rox.
At last to Zogdia this Triumpher came,
And cover'd o're with Laurels forc'd our City:
At night I by my Father's order stood,
With fifty Virgins, waiting at a Banquet.
But oh how glad was I to hear his Court,
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To feel the pressure of his glowing hand,
And tast the dear, the false-protesting lips.
Cas.
Wormwood, and Hemlock henceforth grow about 'em:
Rox.
Gods! that a man should be so great and base!
What said he not when in the Bridal Bed
He clasp'd my yielding body in his arms:
When with his fiery lips devouring mine,
And moulding with his hand my throbbing breast,
He swore the Globes of Heav'n and Earth were vile
To those rich Worlds; and talk'd, and kiss'd, and lov'd,
And made me shame the morning with my blushes.
Cas.
Yet after this prove false!
Pol.
Horrid perjury!
Cas.
Not to be match'd.
Pol.
O you must find revenge.
Cas.
A person of your Spirit be thus slighted!
For whose desire all Earth should be too little.
Rox.
And shall the Daughter of Darius hold him?
That puny Girl, that Ape of my ambition?
That cry'd for milk, when I was nurs'd in bloud!
Shall she, made up of watry Element,
A Cloud, shall she embrace my proper God?
While I am cast like Lightning from his hand!
No, I must scorn to prey on common things;
Though hurl'd to Earth by this disdainfull Jove,
I will rebound to my own Orb of fire,
And with the wrack of all the Heav'ns expire.
Cas.
Now you appear your self;
'Tis noble anger.
Rox.
May the Illustrious bloud that fills my womb,
And ripens to be perfect Godhead born,
Come forth a Fury, may Barsina's Bastard
Tread it to Hell, and rule as Soveraign Lord,
When I permit Statira to enjoy
Roxana's right, and strive not to destroy.
Enter Sysigambis, Statira, in mourning.
Cas.
Behold her going to fulfill her Vow;
Old Sysigambis whom the King engag'd,
Resists and awes her with Authority.
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Rox.
'Twas rashly vow'd indeed, and I shou'd pity her.
Sys.
O my Statira, how has passion chang'd thee!
Think if you drive the King to such extremes,
What in his fury may he not denounce
Against the poor remains of lost Darius.
Stat.
I know, I know he will be kind to you,
And to my mourning Sister, for my sake;
And tell him, how with my departing breath
I rail'd not, but spoke kindly of his person,
Nay wept to think of our divided Loves,
And sobbing sent a last forgiveness to him.
Rox.
Grant, Heav'n, some ease to this distracted wretch!
Let her not linger out a life in torments,
Be these her last words, and at once dispatch her.
Sys.
No, by the Everlasting fire I swear,
By my Darius Soul, I never more
Will dare to look on Alexander's face,
If you refuse to see him.
Rox.
Curse on that cunning tongue, I fear her now,
Cas.
No, she's resolv'd.
Stat.
I cast me at your feet,
To bath 'em with my tears; or if you please,
I'le let out life, and wash 'em with my bloud;
But still conjure you not to rack my Soul,
Nor hurry my wild thoughts to perfect madness.
Shou'd now Darius awfull Ghost appear,
And my pale Mother stand beseeching by,
I wou'd persist to death, and keep my Vow.
Rox.
She shews a certain bravery of Soul,
Which I shou'd praise in any but my Rival.
Sys.
Dye then, rebellious wretch, thou art not now
That soft belov'd, nor dost thou share my bloud.
Go hide thy bafeness in thy lovely Grot,
Ruine thy Mother, and thy Royal House,
Pernicious Creature! shed the innocent
Bloud, and Sacrifice to the King's wrath
The lives of all thy people; fly, be gone,
And hide thee where bright Virtue never shone:
The day will shun thee, nay the Stars that view
Mischiefs and Murders, deeds to thee not new,
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Will start at this;—Go, go, thy crimes deplore,
And never think of Sysigambis more.
Exit.
Rox.
Madam, I hope you will a Queen forgive,
Roxana weeps to see Statira grieve:
How noble is the brave resolve you make,
To quit the world for Alexander's sake?
Vast is your mind, you dare thus greatly dye,
And yield the King to one so mean as I:
'Tis a revenge will make the Victor smart,
And much I fear your death will break his heart.
Stat.
You counterfeit a fear, and know too well
How much your Eyes all Beauties else excell:
Roxana, who though not a Princess born,
In Chains cou'd make the mighty Victor mourn.
Forgetting pow'r, when Wine had made him warm,
And senseless, yet even then you knew to charm:
Preserve him by those arts that cannot fail,
While I the loss of what I lov'd bewail.
Rox.
I hope your Majesty will give me leave
To wait you to the Grove, where you wou'd grieve;
Where like the Turtle, you the loss will moan
Of that dear Mate, and murmur all alone.
Stat.
No, proud Triumpher o're my falling state,
Thou shalt not stay to fill thee with my Fate:
Go to the Conquest which your wiles may boast,
And tell the world you left Statira lost.
Go seize my faithless Alexander's hand,
Both hand and heart were once at my command:
Grasp his lov'd neck, dye on his fragrant breast,
Love him like me, which cannot be exprest,
He must be happy, and you more then blest.
While I in darkness hide me from the day,
That with my mind I may his form survey,
And think so long, till I think life away.
Rox.
No, sickly Virtue, no,
Thou shalt not think, nor thy Loves loss bemoan,
Nor shall past pleasures through thy fancy run;
That were to make thee blest as I can be,
But thy no thought I must, I will decree;
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As thus I'le torture thee till thou art mad,
And then no thought to purpose can be had.
Stat.
How frail, how cowardly is woman's mind?
We shriek at Thunder, dread the rustling wind,
And glitt'ring Swords the brightest eyes will blind.
Yet when strong Jealousie enflames the Soul,
The weak will roar, and Calms to Tempests roul.
Rival, take heed, and tempt me not too far;
My bloud may boyl, and blushes shew a War.
Rox.
When you retire to your Romantick Cell,
I'le make thy solitary Mansion Hell;
Thou shalt not rest by day, nor sleep by night,
But still Roxana shall thy Spirit fright:
Wanton, in Dreams, if thou dar'st dream of bliss,
Thy roving Ghost may think to steal a kiss;
But when to his sought Bed, thy wandring air
Shall for the happiness it wish'd repair,
How will it groan to find thy Rival there?
How ghastly wilt thou look, when thou shalt see,
Through the drawn Curtains, that Great man and me,
Wearied with laughing joys, shot to the Soul,
While thou shalt grinning stand, and gnash thy teeth, and houl.
Stat.
O barb'rous rage! my tears I cannot keep,
But my full Eyes in spight of me will weep.
Rox.
The King and I in various Pictures drawn,
Clasping each other, shaded o're with Lawn,
Shall be the daily Presents I will send,
To help thy sorrow to her Journeys end.
And when we hear at last thy hour draws nigh,
My Alexander, my dear Love and I,
Will come and hasten on thy ling'ring Fates,
And smile, and kiss thy Soul out, through the Grates.
Stat.
'Tis well, I thank thee; thou hast wak'd a rage,
Whose boiling now no temper can asswage:
I meet thy tides of Jealousie with more,
Dare thee to dwell, and dash thee o're and o're.
Rox.
What wou'd you dare?
Stat.
Whatever you dare do,
My warring thoughts the bloudiest tracts persue,
I am by Love a Fury made, like you:
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Kill, or be kill'd, thus acted by despair.
Rox.
Sure the disdain'd Statira does not dare.
Stat.
Yes, tow'ring proud Roxana, but I dare.
Rox.
I tow'r indeed o're thee;
Like a fair Wood, the shade of Kings I stand,
While thou, sick Weed, dost but infect the Land.
Stat.
No, like an Ivy I will curl thee round,
Thy sapless Trunk of all its pride confound,
Then dry, and wither'd, bend thee to the ground.
What Sysigambis threats, objected fears,
My Sisters sighs, and Alexander's tears,
Cou'd not effect, thy Rival rage has done;
My Soul, whose start at breach of oaths begun,
Shall to thy ruine violated run.
I'le see the King in spight of all I swore,
Though curst that thou mayst never see him more.
Enter Perdiccas, Alexander, Sysigambis, Attendants, &c.
Perd.
Madam, your Royal Mother, and the King.
Alex.
O my Statira! O my angry dear!
Turn thine Eyes on me, I wou'd talk to them:
What shall I say to work upon thy Soul?
Where shall I throw me? whither shall I fall?
Stat.
For me you shall not fall.
Alex.
For thee I will:
Before thy feet I'le have a Grave dug up,
And perish quick, be buried straight alive:
Give but as the Earth grows heavy on me,
A tender look, and a relenting word;
Say but, 'twas pity that so great Great a man,
Who had ten thousand deaths in Battels scap'd,
For one poor fault so early shou'd remove,
And fall a Martyr to the God of Love.
Rox.
Is then Roxana's love and life so poor,
That for another you can chuse to dye,
Rather then live for her? what have I done?
How am I alter'd since at Susa last
You swore, and seal'd it with a thousand kisses,
Rather then lose Roxana's smallest charm,
You wou'd forgo the Conquest of the world?
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Alex.
Madam, you best can tell what Magick drew
Me to your charms, but let it not be told
For your own sake; take, take that Conquer'd World,
Dispose of Crowns and Scepters as you please,
Let me but have the freedom for an hour,
To make account with this wrong'd Innocence.
Stat.
You know, my Lord, you did commit a fault,
I ask but this, repeat your crime no more.
Alex.
O never, never.
Rox.
Am I rejected then?
Alex.
Exhaust my Treasures,
Take all the Spoils of the far conquer'd Indies;
But for the ease of my afflicted Soul,
Go where I never may behold thee more.
Rox.
Yes, I will go, ungratefull as thou art!
Bane to my life! thou torment of my days!
Thou murd'rer of the world! for as thy Sword
Has cut the lives of thousand thousand men,
So will thy tongue undo all woman-kind.
But I'le be gone; this last disdain has cur'd me,
And I am now grown so indifferent,
I could behold you kiss without a pang,
Nay take a Torch, and light you to your Bed:
But do not trust me, no, for if you do,
By all the Furies, and the flames of Love,
By Love, which is the hottest burning Hell,
I'le set you both on fire to blaze for ever.
Exit.
Stat.
O Alexander, is it possible? Good Gods,
That guilt can shew so lovely!—yet I pardon,
Forgive thee all, by thy dear life I do.
Alex.
Ha! Pardon! saidst thou, Pardon me?
Sys.
Now all thy Mothers blessings fall about thee.
My best, my most belov'd, my own Statira.
Alex.
Is it then true that thou hast pardon'd me?
And is it giv'n me thus to touch thy hand,
And fold thy body in my longing arms?
To gaze upon thy Eyes, my happier Stars?
To tast thy lip, and thy dear balmy breath,
While ev'ry sigh comes forth so fraught with sweets,
'Tis incense to be offer'd to a God.
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Stat.
Yes, dear Impostor, 'tis most true that I
Have pardon'd thee; and 'tis as true that while
I stand in view of thee, thy eyes will wound,
Thy tongue will make me wanton as thy wishes;
And while I feel thy hand, my body glows:
Therefore be quick, and take your last adieu,
These your last sighs, and these your parting tears;
Farewell, farewell, a long and last farewell.
Alex.
O my Hephestion, bear me or I sink.
Stat.
Nay, you may take,—Heav'n how my heart throbs,
You may, you may, if yet you think me worthy,
Take from these trembling lips a parting kiss.
Alex.
No, let me starve first;—why, Statira, why?
What is the meaning of all this?—O Gods!
I know the cause, my working brain divines:
You'l say you pardon'd but with this reserve,
Never to make me blest, as I have been,
To slumber by the side of that false man,
Nor give a Heav'n of beauty to a Devil.
Think you not thus? speak Madam.
Sys.
She is not worthy, Son, of so much sorrow:
Speak comfort to him, speak, my dear Statira,
I ask thee by those tears; Ah canst thou e're
Pretend to Love, yet with dry eyes behold him!
Alex.
Silence more dreadfull then severest sounds:
Wou'd she but speak, though Death, eternal Exile
Hung at her lips, yet while her tongue pronounces,
There must be Musick even in my undoing.
Stat.
Still my lov'd Lord, I cannot see you thus;
Nor can I ever yield to share your Bed:
O I shall find Roxana in your arms,
And tast her kisses left upon your lips:
Her curs'd embraces have defil'd your body.
Nor shall I find the wonted sweetness there,
But artificial smells, and aking odours.
Alex.
Yes, obstinate, I will; Madam, you shall,
You shall, in spight of this resistless passion,
Be serv'd; but you must give me leave to think
You never lov'd:—O cou'd I see you thus!
Hell has not half the tortures that you raise.
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Clyt.
Never did passions combat thus before.
Alex.
O I shall burst,
Unless you give me leave to rave a while.
Sys.
Yet e're destruction sweeps us both away,
Relent, and break through all to pity him.
Alex.
Yes, I will shake this Cupid from my arms,
If all the rages of the Earth can fright him;
Drown him in the deep bowl of Hercules;
Make the World drunk, and then like Aeolus,
When he gave passage to the struggling winds,
I'le strike my Spear into the reeling Globe
To let it bloud; set Babylon in a blaze,
And drive this God of flames with more consuming fire.
Stat.
My presence will but force him to extremes;
Besides, 'tis death to me to see his pains:
Yet stand resolv'd never to yield again.
Permit me to remove.
Alex.
I charge ye stay her;
For if she pass, by all the Hells I feel,
Your Souls, your naked Ghosts shall wait upon her.
O turn thee! Turn! thou barb'rous brightness, turn!
Hear my last words, and see my utmost pang:
But first kneel with me, all my Souldiers, kneel,
[All kneel.
Yet lower,—prostrate to the Earth:—Ah Mother, what
Will you kneel too? Then let the Sun stand still
To see himself out-worship'd; not a face
Be shewn that is not wash'd all o're in tears,
But weep as if you here beheld me slain.
Sys.
Hast thou a heart? or art thou Savage turn'd?
But if this posture cannot move your mercy,
I never will speak more.
Alex.
O my Statira!
I swear, my Queen, I'le not out-live thy hate,
My Soul is still as death:—But one thing more,
Pardon my last extremities,—the transports
Of a deep wounded breast, and all is well.
Stat.
Rise, and may Heav'n forgive you all, like me.
Alex.
You are too gracious;—Clytus, bear me hence,
When I am laid in Earth, yield her the world.
There's something here heaves, and is cold as Ice,
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That stops my breath;—Farewell, O Gods! for ever.
Stat.
Hold off, and let me run into his arms,
My dearest, my all Love, my Lord, my King;
You shall not dye, if that the soul and body
Of thy Statira can restore thy life:
Give me thy wonted kindness, bend me, break me
With thy embraces.
Alex.
O the killing joy!
O extasie! my heart will burst my breast,
To leap into thy bosom; but by Heav'n
This night I will revenge me of thy beauties,
For the dear rack I have this day endur'd:
For all the sighs and tears that I have spent,
I'le have so many thousand burning Loves;
So swell thy lips, so fill me with thy sweetness,
Thou shalt not sleep, nor close thy wandring Eyes:
The smiling hours shall all be lov'd away,
We'l surfeit all the night, and languish all the day.
Stat.
Nor shall Roxana—
Alex.
Let her not be nam'd.—
O Mother! how shall I requite your goodness?
And you, my fellow Warriours, that cou'd weep
For your lost King:—But I invite you all,
My equals in the Throne as in the Grave,
Without distinction to the Riot come,
To the Kings Banquet.—
Clyt.
I beg your Majesty
Would leave me out.
Alex.
None, none shall be excus'd;
All Revel out the day, 'tis my command;
Gay as the Persian God our self will stand,
With a Crown'd Goblet in our lifted hand.
Young Ammon and Statira shall go round,
While antick Measures beat the burden'd ground,
And to the vaulted Skies our Clangors sound.
Exeunt.
